TYR Tactical

Archive for the ‘History’ Category

Special Air Warfare and the Secret War in Laos: Air Commandos, 1964-1975

Monday, November 7th, 2022

“Special Air Warfare and the Secret War in Laos: Air Commandos, 1964-1975” is a historical monograph written by COL Joseph D. Celeski (US Army, Ret) and published by Air University Press. COL Celeski describes his work thusly:

“During retirement, I was intrigued by the lack of comprehensive historical research devoted to one of the long wars fought by the USAF Air Commandos, the Secret War in Laosa gap in written Special Operation Forces SOF history. It is a story of the growth of the Air Commandos from a detachment-level operation sent to Thailand to the later establishment of the 56th Special Operations Wing. The lack of coverage can in part be attributed to the secrecy surrounding the war and classification restrictions on relevant documentation. Further, many special operators remain reluctant to discuss the details of their involvement in classified operations. Although peeling back the cloak of secrecy can be difficult, it is important to the special operations profession to capture the legacy of the Air Commandos involvement in the Secret War in Laos and provide an open-source history for the Air Commando community. Much of the motivation and desire to complete this work is in their honor and sacrifice in this endeavor. Work on this project began with a two-year research plan to develop an irregular warfare course for use in military schools focused on the dynamics of strategic and operational art in a war, conducted vis-a-vis a covert interagency environment. The preliminary preparation for the course consisted of gathering as many books on the war in Laos as possible over sixty at the time as well as what could be uncovered through online research. Museums with a primary focus on USAF Special Operations and offices of SOF historians provided material and sound advice about how to contact Air Commando veterans who served in Laos. Although research material was gathered from national to local archives as well as major universities and air museums, the two definitivesources for a book of this kind were the Air Force Historical Research Agency, at Maxwell AFB, Alabama and the command history office of the Air Force Special Operations Command at Hurlburt Field, Florida.”

You can download it for free here.

The Baldwin Files – The Case for Pathfinders

Thursday, November 3rd, 2022

I am going to take this opportunity to introduce readers to small, specialized, teams of infantry called “Pathfinders.” Teams that no longer exist. Pathfinders were first trained and employed during the last half of WWII. Through trial and error, in combat and training, Commanders realized that mass Airborne Operations were more successful if someone was already on the ground to confirm and clearly mark drop zones. The mission required newly formed Pathfinder teams to jump in early to provide that critical ground to air link for larger follow-on formations of Airborne troops. The Pathfinders proved their utility in combat and the skills were retained exclusively by Airborne units after the war.

In 1947, the history starts to get a little more complicated. The Air Force became a separate service that year. There was some consideration at the time for aligning Army Airborne Divisions in some fashion under the Air Force. Perhaps akin to the USMC and US Navy relationship. Of course, we know that did not happen. However, the Air Force did want to retain control of their aircraft delivering Army forces. Therefore, they formed the Combat Control Teams (CCTs) with essentially the same mission – and linage – as the original Army Pathfinders. Indeed, this issue was an early exemplification of the reality that the operational mission “divorce settlement” of the two Services was never entirely clean cut. For instance, then and even today, the Army continued to fly quite a few of its own fixed wing STOL cargo and support aircraft. The C7 Caribou and the C23 Sherpa being just two examples.

Still, with the CCTs available in sufficient numbers, many in both Services began to consider the Army’s remaining few Pathfinder teams redundant at best for Air Force supported Airborne Operations. That might very well have spelled the end for the Pathfinders. However, that all changed dramatically with the introduction of capable “medium lift” helicopters after the Korean War. Specifically, the UH1 “Huey” that started coming into limited service in 1956; and shortly thereafter was being delivered in both “Slick” and heavily armed versions. Suddenly, the Army could imagine and practice a version of “Air Mobile” operational maneuver warfare that was much less dependent on Air Force lift assets. Likewise, a new more robust pattern for Army Pathfinder distribution and employment emerged.

As the Army fielded rotary wing aviation units throughout the force, Pathfinder trained infantry teams of various sizes were assigned to each new formation. That is the arrangement that was tested in combat in Vietnam from the time the first conventional Army units were deployed until the last major unit redeployed. Since I cannot do that extensive history justice in the space of this article, I am going to recommend two references for those that might want to have more details. One is a link to the Pathfinder Association’s website. The link goes to a page which has an official Army video of Pathfinder School, circa 1969. Army Pathfinder History Vietnam (nationalpathfinderassociation.org)

Additionally, there is a book available in paperback by Richard R. Burns, called “Pathfinder: First In, Last Out” that describes his training at Fort Benning and subsequent experience in Vietnam as a Pathfinder in the 101st Airborne 1967-68. The book was published in 2002 and is the only one I know of that is exclusively focused on Pathfinders. Unfortunately, Burns died of cancer in 2001 before the book went to print. I read it years ago and then read it again before writing this. It would have been invaluable to me if it had been available in 1976 when I joined the Pathfinder Detachment of the 3rd Aviation Battalion, 3rd Infantry Division, Kitzingen, Germany.

Obviously, peacetime service in Germany is in no way equivalent to combat duty in Vietnam. However, the techniques, tools, and Pathfinder mission profiles, Burns describes are very familiar to me. Not surprising really, since the Pathfinder Handbook I studied was dated 1970 and the gear we wore, carried, and employed, was almost all Vietnam vintage – if not earlier. Pathfinders are trained to set up and operate Fixed-Wing Landing Strips (FLSs) for aircraft that need a runway, Drop Zones (DZs) for cargo and personnel delivered by parachute, and Helicopter Landing Zones (HLZs) for vertical takeoff and landing birds. However, facilitating helicopter borne insertions and larger scale air assaults is the signature tactical mission that Pathfinders have been best known for since the 1960s. Any MOS can become a Pathfinder, and running a singular PZ, DZ, or HLZ is MOS agnostic. But the inherent tactical tasks involved in that close combat mission helps explain why Pathfinder units were specifically manned by infantry soldiers.

We did our fair share of air assault missions in Germany. Certainly, compared to Vietnam, our air assaults were relatively small and of short duration. Usually involving a single Rifle Company, but a couple of times it was an entire Infantry Battalion. The Aviation Battalion had only one “Lift Company” – that the Pathfinders were also assigned to. IIRC we only had a total of 20 UH1s and a smaller number of OH58s. The Huey, fully loaded, was designed to carry 11 passengers (PAX) + Crew, and a Rifle Squad in those days was 11 soldiers. 10-12 birds were about all that could realistically be made available at any one time. Therefore, a lift could be no more that 110-132 Pax total. In other words, approximately one Rifle Company – minus heavier weapons like dismounted TOWs and Mortars. Adding those required a second lift. If, as often happened, the unit wanted to sling load a couple of M151s (Jeeps) with radios for C2 that might require more lifts as well. Depending on the complexity of the Ground Commander’s plan, the size of the target HLZ(s), and the flight time from pick up to drop off, the supporting air movement plans in and out can get quite complicated.

In that baseline scenario, a significant part of a Pathfinder’s pre-mission activities was that of a liaison between the air and ground elements. Deconflicting and synchronizing the supporting and supported efforts and balancing the real equities of both units. I did not think of it in those terms as a young Pathfinder. I just knew it was my job to help work the shit out so that the mission could be successful. Another large part of our mission was simply reconnaissance – again, a common infantry small unit tactical task. For example, depending on the tactical situation, a couple of Pathfinders might get dropped off by an OH58, move cross-country, survey (recon) the proposed HLZ and recommend by radio any adjustments to the air or ground plans. If the initial threat level is higher, the Pathfinders can insert with a Scout Platoon or other element to get eyes on and establish some level of initial security of the HLZ. Or, if complete tactical surprise is deemed more essential, Pathfinders come in with the lead bird of the first lift to provide real-time ground to air contact for the follow-on lifts.

We were more than capable of doing other, more diverse, and less traditional, missions as well. We were the Aviation Battalion’s de facto Downed Aircraft Recovery Team (DART) – although I do not remember us using that term. We responded to a couple of real-world crashes. One with casualties, one with fatalities while I was there. Plus, we flew out to secure a number of aircraft that had to land away from home station for maintenance issues until a maintenance team could get to them cross country. We always kept our LCE and other gear staged in our team room – much like firefighters – in case we got a call out. The two “Attack Companies” of the Battalion were based at a different Airfield in Giebelstadt. They were the first in Germany to field Cobra Gunships with TOW missiles. We participated in portions of an “Aero-Scout” experiment for their future employment as tank killers. The concept involved the OH58s dropping us off where we could select and observe a potential engagement area and then call in the Cobras when there were targets available. The ground part did not work out, but the OH58’s partnership with the Cobras was codified and continued.

We were also adjunct instructors for the 3rd Division’s Primary Leadership Development Course (PLDC). About every six weeks, we had the students for two days of Rappelling Training. On day one we did a ground and tower train up and on day two the helicopters. This was a win/win situation for the school cadre, the students, for us, and the Battalion. Fast Roping had not been invented yet, so rappelling was the preferred technique to get people – including Pathfinders – on the ground in places where the helicopter cannot land. The pilots had to certify on the skills involved as did we. Frankly, there were more pilots than Pathfinders and after we had practiced a couple of times each, we got really tired of doing it over and over to train the pilots. So, the PLDC students were perfect training aids. They got a new experience, the pilots took turns getting trained, and we made better use of our time practicing our “Rappelmaster” skills.    

And, we were even involved in some missions with potential operational and strategic level impacts. Tactical nukes were more integrated into our Theater Defensive Plans during the Cold War in Germany than I think most people realize. When I was in A/1/15th Inf (75-76) we did several live ammo load outs to provide security for convoy deliveries of 155 and 8? Howitzer nuke rounds. Presumably, all the rounds we delivered to notional firing sites and then returned to storage were dummies – but we never knew for sure. It was the only time we wore Flak Vests, and the mission was taken very seriously while I was there. Lance Missile Batteries (Nuclear Capable) had organic infantry platoons to provide full time security. One of the missions of the 3rd Aviation Battalion was to deliver 12Es and their Special Atomic Demolition Munition (SADM) package(s) to the detonation site(s) in the Division’s sector. Certain aircrews had to certify for that mission. The Pathfinder Detachment I was part of was involved at both ends and we practiced that drill with the Engineers on a regular basis. Only those with a Secret Clearance or higher were allowed to participate. The sites we practiced on were not the actual target sites. Those were TS and only the most senior Engineers supposedly were privy to that information.

All of that is not to say we were well resourced in every way. A Divisional Pathfinder Detachment was supposed to have 14 soldiers led by a 1st LT OIC and a SFC NCOIC. For some administrative reason they were not coded as Team Leader or Team Sergeant – but that is what they were. And three 4-man Pathfinder Teams, each led by a Staff Sergeant. When I arrived, there were six of us. One SSG, two Sergeants, and three Specialists. Three months later we had dropped down to 4 people. That was unsustainable. In the 28 months or so that I was there, we had only two NCOs arrive in the “normal” way. One was a SFC who had just been cadre at the Pathfinder School at Benning. The other was a Sergeant out of the 101st Pathfinder Company. Both had “pinpoint” orders to our Detachment. Two examples of the Pathfinder Mafia at work.

Most infantry soldiers E-6 and above, and most Officers, came to Germany on those kinds of orders – already wearing the patches of the units they were going to. Those units usually met them at Rhein Main Airport in Frankfurt and took control of them almost immediately. However, E5s and below were almost always “Europe Unassigned” and spent several days at the Theater Replacement Detachment at the Airport before they were divvied out to the Divisions or other major units. We decided to take advantage of that loop hole. With our Battalion leaderships’ tacit approval, we would drive to the Rhein Main terminal and watch as Army chartered commercial airliners unloaded. If someone showed up with no patch, bloused jump boots, and an infantry blue cord we would approach them for a hasty interview/selection process. Mostly, “hey, how would you like to be a Pathfinder?” If we liked their answer, we grabbed their duffel from the baggage carousel and shanghaied them to Kitzingen.

Once there, out Battalion S1 would cut them orders assigning them to one of our unfilled slots. Basically, reverse pinpoint orders. Usually, we netted maybe one guy each visit, but once we picked up two – one from each of the Ranger Battalions. That way, in a few weeks, we got healthy with 10-11 assigned. When one guy would get ready to PCS, we would just make another trip or two to get his replacement. We ended up with 3 Ranger qualified guys and 2 SF qualified, but only the two NCOs I mentioned who came to us from Stateside Pathfinder units were school trained Pathfinders. The rest of us had to OJT. Because of that fact, technical and tactical training and mandatory pre-mission rehearsals to a high standard was a constant. We were all conscious of our “elite” status and we took it seriously. People inside and outside our chain of command were watching our performance all the time. I personally felt challenged every day to keep up with everyone else on the detachment and maintain the same standard of excellence.  

I will give one example of the team ethos that I am talking about. In the summer of 1976, the 3rd Division held an Expert Infantry Badge (EIB) Test in the Kitzingen Training Area. In those days, it was common for each Infantry Battalion to send 40-45 candidates to the Test Site and they could expect to earn a half dozen EIBs at the end. It worked out that way that year. We sent 6 candidates – everyone who did not already have an EIB. Four of us – myself included – earned the EIB. The other two guys missed it by one task each. It was a pretty impressive showing and was noticed by leadership up to the Division level. Our Battalion Commander, who was an Aviation qualified Artilleryman IIRC, liked to brag that his Aviation Unit had earned almost as many EIBs as an actual Infantry Battalion. Even now, I attribute that performance to individual and collective motivation more than talent. None of us wanted to be the one that let the team down and performed accordingly.

Let me explain the picture I put together and attached (above). On the top left is the DUI or Crest of the 3rd Aviation Battalion. On the top right the Pathfinder “Winged Torch” Badge. The picture of the role player on the far right is supposed to represent a Pathfinder in Vietnam circa 1970. That is what we looked like when we were working. We were authorized and wore the ERDL Jungle Fatigues. They were supposed to be “field uniforms” only – not to be worn in garrison. We cheated on that rule all the time. The weather had to be bitterly cold before we would cover up with OD Field Pants and Field Jackets. Yes, sometimes we froze our asses off, but we always looked good doing it. The ERDLs were issued, but we had to get Jungle Boots, OD Patrol Caps, and Kabar Knives from Shotgun News. We wore M1956 LCE loaded with Smoke Grenades, VS 17 Panels, and some of the same Survival Gear that the Aircrews carried. We almost always had a radio on our backs when working. The Pathfinder mission is comms heavy, so we actually had two radios (PRC 77s) assigned for every man and even had the same radio headset the model is wearing.

The building featured in the center of the picture is emblematic of my time with the Pathfinders. It was an old Luftwaffe structure. The picture was taken in the 1960s but it was the only one I could find on line that showed the face of the building. As the reader can see, the Airfield Control Tower is on the left side. Flight Operations for the Battalion was on the first floor on the right side. Whoever took the picture is probably standing on the near edge of the runway which ran parallel to the building. While not clearly visible, a taxiway runs along the left of the picture from the runway to the building. Almost all of our missions started and ended in front of that structure. About a quarter of a mile to the left, while coming back from a mission early one night, I rode a Huey in that lost engine power and auto rotated into the dirt just off the far end of the runway. The skids were crushed and the bird belly flopped into the ground, but we all walked away. Good times.

I met 5-Star General Omar Bradley in front of that Building. He was in his 80s at the time. Apparently, he was never technically retired. He had an SSG Enlisted Aid who pushed his wheel chair around. He was physically frail but his mind was still sharp and several of us talked with him for about an hour before an Army fixed wing aircraft showed up to take him away. It was an honor. I saw the first A10 to visit Europe there in 1976. The Air Force sent one bird with a very photogenic pilot and ground crew to show off the new plane to the US Army and our allies. It was supposed to be proof positive that the Air Force took the Close Air Support mission and Airland Battle Doctrine seriously. The plane did a one bird airshow over the Kitzingen Airfield and then taxied up to the building so that we could gawk at it. I tried to steal a dummy 30mm round but they caught me and took it back.

Reference back to the picture, on the far right I superimposed the 3rd Division Patch. That is because our Pathfinder Detachment painted that patch on the building in 1977. I just could not find a picture of it. We got the job because we had to do the top part of it by rappelling down the side of the building. Yes, the right side of the building had just as may windows as the left side. We just painted over the windows. I doubt if anyone was ever able to get any of those windows open again. Getting the job done was a weeklong chore and I managed to get myself in some trouble before we were done. But I will save that story for another time. In fact, there is a lot more to the saga of that Detachment and that time but those can wait too. I have been talking about the past, but I am truly trying to make a point that is relevant to the future. I want to make the case for bringing Pathfinder units back ASAP.  

Recently, I traveled to Fort Campbell for the annual 5th SF Group Reunion. However, when I got on Post, I stopped first at the Air Assault School (AAS). I spent about 40 minutes with the school XO and several of the cadre NCOs. Specifically, I was looking for some answers about the status of Pathfinders in the Army since the deactivation of the last units (2017) and the closing of the school at Fort Benning (2020). I admit that I am still confused about the Army’s thought process on the subject. It seems that the proponency for Pathfinder training was passed to AAS without much specific guidance. AAS has dedicated cadre that focus on teaching Pathfinder skills, and awarding the Torch, through Mobile Training Teams (MTTs). Not long ago, SSD had an article about one that happened in support of the National Guard. I believe it was at Fort McCoy. They also do a couple each year at Fort Bragg.

That is all positive. Except, the Army clearly has no real institutional interest in the program. Units apparently select candidates for these classes based only on local Commanders’ criteria. The Army has not even specified any target density for Pathfinder qualified personnel, i.e., at least two per Rifle Company for example. When I was in the Infantry in ancient times, the S-3 Air/Deputy S-3 and S-3 Air NCO slots were routinely filled by PF qualified people if available. Of course, there were more Infantry Pathfinders being produced each year back then. No doubt, the Pathfinder Cadre at AAS are true believers in the Pathfinder mission – as they should be. They were happy to talk about it and hope someone can reinvigorate and reprioritize the program soon. I do too. As a side note, the school is sending multiple Air Assault and Pathfinder MTTs to Alaska to jump start the rapid transition of the 11th Airborne’s Stryker Brigade to Air Assault status.

Obviously, I am proud of my time with the Pathfinders. I know now, better than I knew then, that as a unit we consistently punched well above our weight. We set a high standard of excellence and did everything asked of us with consummate professionalism and elan. Moreover, I think Pathfinder skills are still highly relevant to the Army; both on an individual basis and in terms of eventually reactivating dedicated teams focused on the Pathfinder mission. Perhaps, I am just waxing nostalgic and Pathfinders and other small specialized units like Long Range Surveillance (LRS) teams – deactivated along the same timeline as the Pathfinder units – do not matter now that we have drones, etc. After all, some might say, the Horse Cavalry went away when modern mechanized warfare made them obsolete. That might appear to be a valid point, except, the Cavalry mission clearly did NOT go away. Sure, they changed their mounts from equines to motorized vehicles. They evolved, adopted new tools, updated techniques, and found new ways to do their mission. Indeed, I think – and the Army seems to agree – that Cavalry units will need to constantly change, but they still have a vital mission and are here to stay.

I took the following quotes from Army guidance put out at this year’s AUSA Convention in the order they were presented. The Army wants to:

“Acquire sensors to see more, farther, and more persistently than our enemies.”

“Concentrate highly lethal, low-signature [emphasis added] combat forces rapidly from dispersed locations to overwhelm adversaries at a place and time of our choosing.”

“Deliver precise, longer-range fires as part of the Joint Force to strike deep targets and massing enemy forces.”

The U.S. Army relies on cohesive teams that are highly trained, disciplined and fit to fight and win [emphasis added].”

To me, that sounds like Pathfinders and LRS units – if they still existed – would already be examples of exactly the kind of capabilities that the Army is talking about building. To borrow from the “SOF Truths,” exactly the kind of competent force structure that cannot readily be built after emergencies occur. Bottom line. In my professional opinion, both LRS and Pathfinder unit deactivation decisions were ill informed and involved an over confidence in the same false assumptions about the “hi tech” future of “hybrid” or “near peer” warfare that the Army is infamous for getting wrong all too often. A well trained and motivated human is still the most capable all-weather, all-terrain, multifunctional, intelligence gathering sensor AND formidable full spectrum fighting instrument on the planet. As I have learned many times during my career, a team of those kind of people can be practically unstoppable. And that is not going to change anytime soon. Even in the 21st Century, People are still much more important than hardware!

First In, Last Out!
De Oppresso Liber!

LTC Terry Baldwin, US Army (Ret) served on active duty from 1975-2011 in various Infantry and Special Forces assignments. SSD is blessed to have him as both reader and contributor.

Operation Urgent Fury

Tuesday, October 25th, 2022

On the morning of October 25th, 1983, America awoke to reports that US forced had invaded the small Caribbean nation of Grenada, in order to liberate American medical students from danger posed by political instability. Joined by Regional Security System troops from a variety of Caribbean partner nations, they swiftly overwhelmed the Grenadian and Cuban troops. While Operation Urgent Fury was in name, a joint force operation, and included the use of Special Operations Forces, it highlighted many interoperability challenges, such as use of joint operational overlays and communications issues.

20131024-142110.jpg

Several stove pipe problems suffered by the pre-Goldwater-Nichols military were identified during this operation. Additionally, Urgent Fury was conducted with many systems dating from the Vietnam war.

Just six years later, during the invasion of Panama, saw the first employment of several new weapons developed during the Reagan buildup such as the F-117 stealth fighter and the Marine Corps LAV-25. Grenada was a great learning experience for the US military as it highlighted issues with joint service operations, particularly in the communications arena as well as interoperability between Special Operations and General Purpose forces. For example, SOF also took a much more prominent role in operation Blue Spoon during the Panama invasion. We’ve come even further in the past three decades.

Finally, as with any conflict, lives were lost. Let us not forget the 19 Americans killed in action and the 116 who were wounded. Unfortunately, there were also 24 Grenadian civilians killed in the conflict.

SCUBAPRO Sunday – First Special Service Force

Sunday, October 23rd, 2022

Geoffrey N. Pyke, an Englishman, submitted Project PLOUGH to the British government in 1942 as an innovative operational concept. It caught the notice of Vice Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, Chief of Combined Operations. Pyke was offered a position on Mountbatten’s staff. Pyke’s 54-page report proposed commando force operations in Norway and Romania over the winter. Winston S. Churchill, the British Prime Minister, was enthralled by the concept. During a planning conference in London, he pitched the proposal to President Franklin D. Roosevelt and General George C. Marshall. Pyke hypothesized that a ten-thousand-man “North American Force” might encircle significant numbers of German troops in the seized countries by employing compact tracked vehicles to move quickly through the snow.

Because it was a one-way trip, Project PLOUGH was infeasible. It did spark the formation of the First Special Service Force (FSSF). A unique combined US-Canadian outfit. Based on the Project PLOW idea, a combined US-Canadian FSSF was activated at Fort William Henry Harrison, Montana, on July 9, 1942. Its structure was outlined in a binational legal agreement. Soldiers, equipment, and supplies were given by the United States Army, while the 2nd Canadian Parachute Battalion provided soldiers from Canada. From regiments to platoons, command positions were evenly distributed by country. Soldiers from the United States and Canada made up the units. Lieutenant Colonel Robert T. Frederick, a 1928 United States Military Academy alumnus, led the FSSF. Lieutenant Colonel John G. McQueen, a Canadian, served as Frederick’s executive officer. In the summer of 1942, a diverse group of volunteers came to Montana. It began a rigorous program of physical fitness, close combat fighting, airborne, demolition, mountaineering, amphibious, and winter warfare training. The FSSF was divided into three 600-man regiments, a service battalion, and a headquarters, with one-third of the Force being Canadian. LTC Frederick persuaded the War Department to employ the FSSF in recovering the Aleutian Islands after Project PLOUGH was canceled.

The Force led the attack on Kiska Island on August 15, 1943. Even though the Japanese had left, Kiska served as a crucial training ground for future operations. The combat-proven FSSF was deployed to Europe, notably to the Fifth U.S. Army in Italy (Lieutenant General Mark W. Clark). To break the German Winter Line, the Force took the 3,000-foot-high Monte La Difensa and La Rementanea mountain peaks, guarded by a Panzer Grenadier division, on December 2-3, 1943. Their relentless night patrols earned them the nickname “Devil’s Brigade” after they landed at Anzio on February 1, 1944. The FSSF led the Allied invasion into Rome on June 4, 1944, seizing vital bridges in preparation for the massive U.S. II Corps assault. In Rome, Colonel Frederick was wounded three times. Brigadier General Frederick, who had recently been elevated to Brigadier General, was assigned to head the 1st Allied Airborne Task Force during the invasion of Southern France. Colonel Edwin A. Walker of the United States Army acquired command of the 3rd FSSF Regiment. On August 14, 1944, he spearheaded the Force’s amphibious assaults on the Mediterranean islands of Port Cros and Levant. Operation DRAGOON allowed the Seventh United States Army (Lieutenant General Alexander M. Patch) to land safely in southern France. Five months later, on December 5, 1944, outside the village of Menton, France, the FSSF paraded one more time to commemorate the departure of the Canadians. After the FSSF was disbanded on January 6, 1945, American veterans formed the 474th Infantry Regiment (Separate). When the war in Europe ended in May 1945, the 474th was dispatched to Norway to disarm German soldiers.

The 1st Special Forces Regiment can trace its official U.S. Army history and accolades to the FSSF’s activation on July 9, 1942. The Force is represented by the S.F. Coat of Arms, embroidered on the S.F. Regimental colors. The shield was designed with the FSSF in mind. LTC Frederick created the V-42 fighting knife, which is included in the set.

The U.S. Army Indian Scouts first used the crossed arrows on the crest in 1890. During World War II, the Force wore them as a branch emblem. In 1960, the fighting knife and crossed arrows were added to the Regiment’s S.F. Distinctive Unit Insignia (DUI). The S.F. Shoulder Sleeve Insignia (SSI), often known as a “unit patch,” was adopted in 1955 and is shaped like the FSSF red arrowhead patch but with the words “USA” and “CANADA” embroidered in white. The Special Forces Regiment’s relationship with the First Special Service Force is still felt.

BCM Gunfighter History – Commanders In-Extremis Force (CIF) Assault High Cell Leader Kit

Monday, October 17th, 2022

I spent 2008-2012 as an assaulter in the Commanders In-Extremis Force, with my final years there as an Assault High Cell Leader. The CIF was tasked with direct action, hostage rescue, counter proliferation and counter terrorism actions.

Due to the nature of assaulting/fighting in an urban environment, I ran as light and as slim as possible. We trimmed our basic load down four to five M4 magazines, two initiators for interior charges, an M67 frag grenade, and, in my case, both an MBITR and PRC-117G with associated cables, PTT and antenna. It came out to 26 lbs all in, not including specialty items and tools we occasionally carried.

I had been originally issued the Eagle RBAV (Releasable Body Armor Vest), a platform I ran for three trips (one to Iraq and two in Afghanistan). During both deployments, the vest required repeated repairs. Duct tape and dental floss fixes dotted the vest where the sewing had failed. It got to the point where I began looking to find a more durable alternative that was both lighter, and less restrictive to fight in, even if I had to pay for it myself.

One of our attached Navy WMD specialists gave me a London Bridge Trading (LBT) 6094A and a set of LTC 28340 plates. Lighter and slimmer than the RBAV, the LBT 6094A came in a “shooter cut” with plate pockets that allowed me to run my M4 without fighting the vest. The LTC plates were also significantly lighter, half as thick and more capable (Level IV stand-alone) than my Army issued PPE. These plates were also size medium versus the size large I was issued due to my build. At the end of the day, the LBT and LTC package shaved pounds and inches while increasing mobility and protection.

This would be my set-up until I left the Army a few years later.

Here’s a run down, from a shooter’s perspective, of the layout and why things were positioned where they were.

Front Plate Pocket

I ran a double mag carrier on the right, and a single mag pouch on the left. The double mag pouch served a number of masters based on the mission, but typically was used for secondary exterior initiators, specialty grenades or extra M4 magazines. The remaining single magazine pouch was positioned for the most consistent and quick reloads based on positions I was most often in while working. The pouch featured a bungee strap that could be employed for retention when roping, but more often than not, I left the pouch top open.

Running no deeper than a single magazine on the front of my carrier allowed for a far better dexterity and capability when dealing with non-compliant people as well as climbing.

On the top right and left edges of the plate pocket I ran Nexus U-94A/U Push-To-Talk (PTT) activators. At the time, these were the most reliable and minimalist PTT available. The right side fed off a PRC-117G for external comms and on the left, an MBITR for team/enabler chatter. I set them on opposite sides of my body to eliminate the chance of keying the wrong radio.

Both systems fed into a Peltor dual comm headset, with the shortest cables possible to minimize excess cable management.

Cummerbunds

Right-side, I ran a M67 Frag in a High Ground frag pouch just rearward of where my belt worn Glock 19 pistol grip sat. This gave me rapid access to the frag as well as positive retention without a Fastex buckle. Fastex buckles had proven to be less than optimal for employing a grenade on mission.

Slotted into the PALs webbing just off the front plate bag, I had breacher’s tape to replace or augment any compromised charge attachment medium. Additionally, I had a QCC-CSD (Quick Cap Connector-Connector Single Delay) to replace compromised QCCs on interior breaches, and a QCC-CDI (Connector Dual Instantaneous) for replacement of dual-primed exterior charges.

On my left-side, a Paraclete triple M4/Glock magazine shingle cut down to a double shingle, was positioned with additional M4 magazines captured by bungie retention. Both pistol pouches carried initiators for interior charges as I never ran pistol reloads in combat. Set just off the front plate bag, this positioning gave me the most consistent reloads and equipment employment on mission.

Just adjacent to the rear plate bag, I ran a MBITR radio in Diamondback Tactical MBITR pouch, the most minimal/reliable radio pouch available at the time. Placed to put the antenna comfortably behind the left armpit or to provide protection for connectors when running an antenna relocator, the positioning allowed me to access and rapidly manipulate both dials and channels from memory. This also allowed me to remove the radio from the pouch without disconnecting all the attachments to troubleshoot the system. A lesson learned the hard way.

Finally, I rigged some 550 cord loops to create improvised cable management channels that reduced the odds of snags or other potential breakages in the routed comms wires. These loops also allowed the cables enough slack to move freely during movement and fighting.

Rear Plate Bag

Managing comms with unilateral assets + enablers, partner forces, and air assets across multiple objectives simultaneously required a second radio that could talk to a wide spectrum of receivers. To this end, I ran the PRC-117G manpack radio in a Tactical Tailor pouch (not pictured) and controlled the radio with a Keypad Display Unit (KDU) velcro mounted to my right shoulder (which I had also affixed with loop). Despite being mounted on my back, I was able to still access both the radio’s battery compartment as well as troubleshoot issues without pulling the 117 from the pouch.

Shoulder Straps

One of the first mods I made to the 6094 was to dump the shoulder strap pads. With the minimal weight, the discomfort was negligible, and I was able to further reduce bulk. Adding Velcro loop to both shoulders created a mounting surface for the aforementioned KDU, that was positioned high enough to not interfere with the rifle stock nor was it a snag hazard.

Today, I would relocate the KDU centerline along the top edge of the front plate bag, but there was no interface available in-country at the time.

I ran a host of other equipment, to include medical pouches, tourniquets, a Glock 19, and more on my belt, but this vest was set up based on years of combat experience and training. Every inch of it was informed by experiences, both positive and hard learned.

– Commanders In-Extremis Force (CIF) Assaulter

SCUBAPRO Sunday – Gunners Mate First Class Ingram WWI  

Sunday, October 16th, 2022

Gunners Mate First Class GM1 Osmond Kelly Ingram of Pratt City, Alabama, was the first enlisted man to die in World War I. On 15 October 1917, the 30-year-old seaman was serving aboard the Navy destroyer USS Cassin DD-43, which was sunk by a German submarine U-61. For his bravery that day, Ingram would be awarded the Medal of Honor. He would also be the first enlisted man to have a ship named after him.

Osmond Ingram was born in Oneonta, Blount County, Alabama, on 7 August 1887, to Naomi [Bettie] and Robert Ingram. His father was a Confederate Army soldier and Methodist Episcopal priest. Before Robert’s death in 1897, the family relocated to Pratt City, Jefferson County, Alabama. After becoming 16 years old in 1903, Kelly, as he was known, decided to join the Navy. On 24 November 1903, he enlisted in the United States Navy with his mother’s permission. He left the Navy after five years to join the Pratt City Fire Department. He spent five years as a firefighter before reenlisting in the Navy. As a Gunner’s Mate in the Gunnery Department, he was assigned to the USS Cassin. When the United States entered the war on 6 April 1917, Ingram was still aboard the USS Cassin. His ship was part of a Navy armada going to France and England to safeguard American commercial ships transporting merchandise.

The USS Cassin was patrolling off the coast of Ireland on 15 October 1917 when she came in contact with the German submarine U-61, which fired a torpedo. Ingram was the first person on board the destroyer to notice the torpedo heading straight for the ship’s stern. When Ingram realized the depth charges were kept in the stern, he dashed to the back of the ship and began releasing them to lessen the blast’s impact. Before the torpedo hit, he had detonated many of the depth charges. Ingram was thrown overboard from the explosion, and Cassin’s rudder was severely damaged. The warship was able to return to port for repairs. Ingram’s death was the lone fatality. His remains were never found.

In 1920, Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels wrote to his mother, notifying her of the decision to award Ingram the Medal of Honor posthumously:

“For extraordinary heroism in the presence of the enemy on the occasion of the torpedoing of the Cassin, on 15 October 1917. While the Cassin was searching for the submarine, Ingram sighted the torpedo coming and, realizing that it might strike the ship aft in the vicinity of the depth charges, ran aft with the intention of releasing the depth charges before the torpedo could reach the Cassin. The torpedo struck the ship before he could accomplish his purpose, and Ingram was killed by the explosion. The depth charges exploded immediately afterward. His life was sacrificed in an attempt to save the ship and his shipmates, as the damage to the ship would have been much less if he had been able to release the depth charges.”

After Congress established the Military and Naval Insurance Act in 1918, his mother became the first beneficiary of money for dependents of soldiers and sailors. The USS Osmond Ingram DD-255, a destroyer, was commissioned in June 1919 in his honor. It was the first navy ship to be named after an Enlisted sailor. The ship was one of the ships anchored at Pearl Harbor on 7 December, 1941.

Join The Army Security Agency

Saturday, October 15th, 2022

Existing officially from 1945 to 1977, the ASA was an army within the Army whoch conducted Signal Intelligence. Later, it was subsumed into the Army’s Intelligence and Security Command with field elements assigned directly to Corps, Divisions, Seperate Brigades and Armored Calvary Regiments as well as Army Special Forces units. During the Cold War, ASA Soldiers had to enlist for three years to join the organization. The only draftees in the units were service support Soldiers. This is an Army recruiting pamphlet for ASA.

SCUBAPRO Sunday – The Untold Story of the USS Cole Salvage Divers

Sunday, October 9th, 2022

Salvage divers of the USS Cole, the untold story of the Navy Divers who recovered fallen, help save the ship.


Detachment Alpha of Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit 2 aboard the USNS Catawba with the USS Cole and the MV Blue Marlin in the background. Photo courtesy of Mike Shields.

On the morning of Oct. 13, 2000, Chief Warrant Officer Frank Perna and his team of US Navy divers were sipping cappuccinos at an open-air coffee shop, enjoying a beautiful Italian morning in the Port of Bari, when the distinct ringtone of Perna’s cell phone cut the casual banter and light mood.

The divers, deployed with Detachment Alpha of Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit 2 aboard the USNS Mohawk, turned their attention to their officer in charge as he picked up the phone and listened intently. Mike Shields, now a retired master chief master diver, could tell the call was serious.

“I understand,” Perna said into the phone before hanging up. “We will be ready.”

Less than 24 hours earlier, the USS Cole, a US Navy guided-missile destroyer, was docked in Yemen’s Aden harbor for a planned refueling when al Qaeda suicide bombers in a small boat packed with at least 400 pounds of explosives steered their craft into the Cole’s left side. The blast ripped a 1,600-square-foot hole in its hull, killing 17 American sailors and wounding 39.


Aqueous Film Forming Foam flame retardant floats on top of the water, preventing any fuel from igniting near the damaged left-side hull of the USS Cole in October 2000. Photo courtesy of Mike Shields.

A skilled diver with extensive experience in underwater salvage and recovery operations, Perna had worked on several high-profile dive operations. He participated in salvage and recovery operations for Trans World Airlines Flight 800 and the USS Arthur W. Radford after its collision at sea with a Saudi Arabian container vessel.

Perna looked up at his team, who stared back with anticipation.

“The USS Cole was damaged from an explosion while in port,” he told them. “We are going to Yemen to assist the crew in recovery and salvage of the ship.”

The 12 men who composed Detachment Alpha launched into planning and preparing for a daunting mission: They would locate missing sailors, assist in stabilizing the ship, recover evidence, and perform structural inspections of the Cole after a terrorist attack.

“We immediately started pulling resources and gear to support several different diving and salvage scenarios,” Shields told Coffee or Die Magazine recently. “Because we were going to be somewhat isolated in Yemen, we knew everything we brought had to serve several purposes.”


The USS Cole (DDG-67) is towed by the Navy tug vessel USNS Catawba to a staging point in the Yemeni harbor of Aden to await transportation by the Norwegian-owned, semi-submersible heavy-lift ship MV Blue Marlin. US Marine Corps photo by Sgt. Don L. Maes.

The next day, the hand-picked team of Navy divers landed in Yemen with all the necessary dive systems to support the numerous planned and unplanned tasks of diving into and under a critically damaged ship. They loaded their gear onto two flatbed trucks and departed the airport with a sketchy Yemeni military escort. As they passed through several military checkpoints, Perna and his team began to feel the gravity of the situation.

When they arrived at the port, most of the team went to work setting up gear and readying a dive site near the ship while Perna and his senior leaders went to assess the damage. The sight shocked them. The ship was blackened by the explosion, listing slightly to the left, and without electrical power. The only light was from the green glow of the pier lights.

“Our first glimpse of the ship that night will be forever fixed in our minds,” Perna told Coffee or Die.

As Shields took in the damage and saw the Cole’s battle-weary crew members sleeping on mattresses scattered randomly on the ship’s weather decks, his shock turned into determination.


Sailors from the USS Cole rest on the helicopter deck in Yemen, Oct. 13, 2000, the day after a suicide bomber attacked the ship in the port of Aden, Yemen. US Navy photo by Jim Watson.

“Get in the water,” he thought. “Get the Cole back.”

On the morning of Oct. 15, 2000, the divers began the first phase of their mission. Several sailors were still missing in the flooded spaces below, and the men of Alpha Detachment had to get them out and repair or salvage what they could as soon as possible.

With flooding in the ship still posing a significant threat to electrical and engineering spaces, time was not on Alpha’s side. They determined which areas of the ship to search, identified a centralized location to set up a dive station, and planned how to safely enter the spaces they needed to reach. They boarded the Cole, set up gear, and began diving from inside the flooded spaces.

With the utmost care and respect, the Navy divers recovered missing Cole sailors. When a sailor was recovered, the divers paused their work to observe a moment of silence and honor the dead. They draped a flag over each fallen soul and escorted them down the pier to be taken back home.

“It’s a very heavy feeling in your heart to see one of your own covered in the flag,” Perna said. “It’s hard to check your emotions and refocus attention back to the task at hand, but you’ve got to push it back down because we’re doing a dangerous job.”


Gunner’s mate Petty Officer 2nd Class Don Schappert prepares to enter the lower levels of the flooded engine room assisted by hull maintenance technician Petty Officer 2nd Class Brett Husbeck. Photo courtesy of Mike Shields.

In addition to recovering the fallen, Alpha had to stop the flooding into the only engine room that was still operational. Reaching the damaged area required navigating through 50 feet of razor-sharp mangled steel, reduced visibility, and a thick layer of engine fuel building on the surface of the water. To get in and out of the water, the Navy divers had to travel through a layer of oil that they worried might catch fire if something sparked. The team deployed a fire retardant over the surface as a preventive measure.

Shields, who was familiar with the layout of the Cole from conducting routine maintenance on the ship the previous year, was one of two divers who suited up, went below the surface through an auxiliary shaft, and made their way slowly to the engine room. They couldn’t see anything and kept bumping into loose gear and debris floating around the spaces.

Making things even worse, the divers’ life-giving tether lines of air, communication, and light power — their “umbilicals” — were constantly hanging up or snagging on unknown obstructions. With every valuable foot gained, the divers had to stop to free themselves.

“We were blindly feeling around for landmarks that would take us to where we thought the flooding was coming from,” Shields recalled.

Using memories of what the engine room would have looked like, Shields and his dive buddy felt around and found landmarks to orient themselves by, eventually finding the cause of the flooding. They filled it with a 3-inch braided ship’s mooring line covered in a thick layer of electrical putty.

“We filled in the crack and effectively stopped all flooding,” Shields said.

Stopping the flooding saved the ship from sinking and prevented what could have been a total loss.


Mike Shields descends into a flooded engine room through a ventilation shaft on the USS Cole in October 2000. Photo courtesy of Mike Shields.

The next day, the Cole’s diesel generator stopped running, and members of the dive team had to locate and secure the damaged piping and reroute pressure through alternate channels back to the generators. Navigating underwater in the damaged area again proved challenging. Bulkheads were blown inward, all non-watertight doors had broken from their hinges, filing cabinets lay scattered across the deck, and visibility was reduced to less than 3 inches.

The Navy divers spent a lot of time rerouting valves controlling pressure, fuel, oil, or air to their secondary and tertiary systems to help offset the ship’s left-side listing. With the major flooding stopped and the Cole stable, the team focused on reviewing and assessing the massive opening the blast had ripped in the left side of the ship’s hull.

“It was nothing less than devastating,” Perna said. “The most disturbing sight was the extensive damage inside the ship. The blast from the explosion had torn 30-35 feet into the center of the ship.”

The explosion was so powerful that the deck had blown upward and fused onto the bulkhead where an office once sat. Crew members who’d been eating on the mess decks reported that the blast’s power created a visible wave that traveled across the deck.

The divers created a staging area just aft of the blast area on the Cole’s left side so they could easily access the outside space and assist the FBI and several other agencies in gathering information and documenting evidence for future investigations.


Hull maintenance technician Petty Officer 2nd Class Brett Husbeck, left, and engineman Petty Officer 2nd Class Mike Shields, right, conduct dive operations in a flooded engine on the USS Cole. Photo courtesy of Mike Shields.

Outfitted with thick rubber wetsuits, dive knives, and iconic yellow Kirby Morgan MK 21 diving helmets, divers splashed into the hot Persian Gulf water and entered the blast area.

“Everything was surreal about diving on board and into a ship with an extensive hole in the side of its hull,” Perna said. “The fact that you can dive inside the ship, turn around, and see the sunlight cascading into the enormous space is beyond explanation.”

On Oct. 17, 2000, Navy divers prepared to search the flooded main engine room, which suffered extensive damage in the blast and was essentially a total loss. Confirming primary and secondary routes with engineers and the crew, Perna and his team devised a plan to move through the ship’s ventilation-shaft system to access the previously unreachable space.

Before entering the cramped shaft, divers wrapped fire hoses around their umbilicals for protection, modified their gear to slim down their profiles, and slipped into wetsuits to protect themselves from the environmental hazards of fuel, oil, and razor-blade-like steel. The divers inched their way to the main engine room, a feat Perna and Shields likened to John McClane crawling through the ventilation shafts of Nakatomi Plaza in Die Hard.


Damage to the USS Cole. Photo courtesy of Mike Shields.

Watching closed-circuit video systems, engineers from the Cole and the USS Donald Cook guided the Navy divers as they moved through sheared bulkheads, buckled decks, broken pipes, and wires that created an immense “spider web” of destruction. Metal shavings sparkled as the divers’ lights scanned the engine room.

“We could feel the change in densities between fuel and water,” Perna recalled. “Everything fouled our umbilicals in the engine room. Pieces of broken equipment fell from the overhead as we disturbed their delicate balance.”

In that unforgiving, stifling space, the men of Detachment Alpha recovered three more missing sailors.

Over the following 10 days, from Oct. 18 through Oct. 28, the Navy divers recovered personal items from the flooded spaces and sifted through the fine sand on the seafloor for anything that might have belonged to the fallen. They searched every flooded compartment, including areas deemed too dangerous to enter safely, recovering all remaining missing sailors and assisting FBI investigators in collecting evidence. The divers inspected every inch of the blast area, looking for evidence of the explosive device. The FBI was keenly interested in anything that might help its investigation to identify the terrorists or the composition of the bomb.


A diver descends a ladder in the flooded engine room. Photo courtesy of Mike Shields.

The Navy divers also worked to mend damaged areas of the Cole and helped prepare the ship for its journey back to the United States. They relieved pressure in the main structural supports by drilling holes at the ends of the significant cracks, alleviating stress and preventing the damage from spreading. Once the necessary repairs were made, the team prepped the ship for a journey out to sea.

The challenge was to keep the ship from listing over to the left side. The Cole’s crew worried that the repairs made to stop the flooding might be damaged once in the open ocean.

“We had the idea to hedge our bets and have some contingencies in place if something happened,” Shields said.


The USS Cole is towed from the port of Aden, Yemen. Photo courtesy of the US Navy.

They ran several hydraulic pumps to the critical spaces and had discharge lines over the side in case a space started to fill with water.

On Oct. 29, the USS Cole slowly moved away from the pier with a small crew aboard to monitor the ship. Supported by tugboats and a tow line from the USNS Catawba, the Cole made the journey from the coast of Yemen to the MV Blue Marlin, a 700-foot-long Norwegian heavy-lift transport ship 23 miles out at sea.

When the Cole reached the Blue Marlin, the Blue Marlin partially submerged its lower deck and floated it under the damaged Cole. Once in place, the ship slowly rose to the surface, gently lifting the Cole from the ocean and resting the mighty ship on the Blue Marlin’s deck.


The MV Blue Marlin transports the USS Cole from Yemen following the attack on the ship in 2000. Photo courtesy of the US Navy.

With the Cole on the Blue Marlin, Shields and his divers checked the ship for flooding once more and found that their work had held. Shields gave the thumbs-up to higher, climbed the side railing, and dove into the ocean, swimming back to his team on the Catawba.

The entire docking evolution took nearly 24 hours to complete. With the Cole securely aboard the Blue Marlin’s deck, they made the trip back to the United States.

The Navy divers’ contributions were instrumental, Perna said. In a small amount of time, the team got the diesel generator back online, rerouted the ship’s air system, set up and operated emergency dewatering equipment, and provided air recharging service to the FBI and explosive ordnance disposal divers.


The guided-missile destroyer USS Cole arrives for a scheduled port visit to Souda Bay, Greece, July 19, 2012. The Cole, home-ported at Naval Station Norfolk, is on a scheduled deployment and is operating in the US 6th Fleet area of responsibility. US Navy photo by Paul Farley.

“No one person can accomplish them alone,” Perna said. “I was grateful to have such a fine and experienced diving and salvage team. I am indebted to and extremely proud of the divers in Detachment Alpha who made it all possible.”

The Detachment Alpha divers safely conducted 37 dives with more than 76 hours of subsurface work during the Cole operation. The ship was fully restored to service within 18 months of the attack in Yemen. The men of Detachment Alpha played a vital role in the operation that ensured the USS Cole’s ability to sail freely today.


A US sailor visits the USS Cole Memorial on the 18th anniversary of the terrorist attack on the ship. Seventeen sailors were killed, and another 39 were wounded in the attack. US Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Justin Wolpert.

The Men of Detachment Alpha: 

CWO3 Frank Perna

ENCS (MDV/SG) Lyle Becker

BMC (SW/DV) David Hunter

ETC (SG/DV) Terry Breaux

HMC (DV) Don Adams

HT2 (DV) Don Husbeck

GM2 (SS/DV) Roger Ziliak

STG2 (SW/DV) Donald Schappert

IS3 (DV) Greg Sutherland

EN2 (DV) Mike Shields

BM2 (DV) Mike Allison

GM3 (DV) Sean Baker

This is reposted with permission from Jayme Pastoric.